


Buenos Aires

by starstrung



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-01
Updated: 2011-11-01
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:32:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstrung/pseuds/starstrung
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When MJN Air is attached with the burdensome cargo of an Argentinean 8-year old, secrets come to light even as turbulence turns to storm, a ghost light flickers, and a short black dress begs for mercy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Buenos Aires

When Martin came in for work, he knew, somehow, that today would not be a good day to fly.  Maybe it was the sky, grey and threatening to rain.  Perhaps it was the coffee stain on his shirt, which he had not been able to wash.  Dry cleaning was expensive, and Martin had not had a delivery job in too long.  He hoped Douglas wouldn’t notice the stain.  But the last time he had felt this foreboding feeling was the time he had almost landed GERTI in the Nile River.  Well, that was how Douglas liked to recount the story anyway.

He told himself to cheer up.  They were dropping a client off in Buenos Aires today.  South America.  That wouldn’t be too bad, even though all Martin would see of it really was the inside of the cheap hotel that Carolyn had booked them for.  But still.  South America.

Carolyn and Arthur arrived about five minutes after he had settled into the flight deck and begun his pre-flight checks.  Arthur came in with his usual cheer, whistling a tune and being generally happy. 

“Who’s our passenger today?” Martin asked, as he checked the controls for anything that wasn’t working that hadn’t been working already. For GERTI, it wasn’t very surprising if one of them had died quietly in the night.

Carolyn checked her binder.  “A Miss Navarro. Whoever paid for her ticket must want her very comfortable indeed, because they paid enough for _three_ Miss Navarros.  So Martin, be a good boy and don’t land in the Amazon River again.

Martin felt his face go red.  “That was the _Nile_ River, and I _didn’t_ land in it!  Not really.” But Carolyn wasn’t listening anymore.  She was already off to go meet the client.

“If it helps, Skip, I thought you were _brilliant_ ,” Arthur said.

Martin would have thanked him, except that was when Douglas chose to make his entrance, waltzing in as he always did with that smug  expression.  The one that made you wonder if he had just won the lottery, or had a snog with a beautiful girl.

“Oh, what’s this? Martin, our Martin, _brilliant_?  What did he do, manage to pour his coffee down his throat instead of on his shirt?”

Martin self-consciously tugged at his jacket so that it covered the stain.  Of course Douglas would have noticed.  “It wasn’t my fault.  The mug was slippery,” he said defensively.

“Oh, so the mug was the culprit then? Dastardly things, aren’t they?  _Mugs_.”

Martin felt his face go redder and went back to checking the controls.  Arthur chose this time to breeze into the flight deck holding two steaming mugs.  “Coffee, chaps?” he said brightly.

“Careful with those mugs, Arthur!  They’re very feisty, you know.” Douglas said.  Arthur blinked in bewilderment, staring at the mugs now with apprehension.

“Oh, just be quiet,” Martin said, taking the coffee from Arthur before he managed to drop them.

“I don’t believe this.  This is unbelievable.  Really!” Carolyn said, bursting into the flight deck and nearly upsetting Martin’s coffee. 

“What’s unbelievable, Mum?” Arthur asked.

“Has GERTI’s tail end fallen off again?  Don’t worry, you just need to give the old girl a good spanking and she’ll be right as rain.”

“What, is that some other rubbish you learned in Air England then?” Martin asked, trying to be scathing.

“No, it was in my second marriage actually.”

“Shut up, all of you.  We have a big problem.  The client, Miss Navarro, is… she’s... _eight_!” Carolyn exclaimed.

“Goodness me, what a crime.  Clap her in irons and send her straight to Scotland Yard, I say.” Douglas said, sipping his coffee.

“This is serious.  We can’t fly an unsupervised _child_ for thirteen hours.”

“Why ever not?  We’ve flown Arthur unsupervised loads of times,” Douglas said.  Arthur’s expression tried to be mildly affronted and generally happy at the same time, ending up looking rather horrible.

“Are you going to cancel the flight then?” Martin wanted to know.  There was no point in getting up to do the walk around if they weren’t even going to leave the ground.

Carolyn was silent for a while, looking torn between the idea of leaving a child under no supervision except _Arthur,_ and the idea of making a very smart amount of money.  She sighed.  “We can’t afford _not_ to do it.  This isn’t going to be pleasant.  Douglas, come with me.  I need your help escorting the passenger.”

“Why me?”

“You’re the one with the daughter of your own.  Now get up, or I’m confiscating the cheese tray.”

~x~

“Really, what are you so frightened of?  It’s only a little girl,” Douglas said, after watching Carolyn nervously make her way across the airfield in the light drizzle. 

“I’m not frightened.  I _despise_ children.  They’re always trying to jump in front of your car or eat something disgusting.  And hold your _hand_.”

“We could have brought the asbestos gloves if you wanted.  I do hope you don’t intend to make me babysit her the whole time just because I have a daughter,” Douglas said.  “What about Arthur?”

“No, having my son supervise a small child is the day I want GERTI to fall out of the sky belly up.”

“ _No_ , I mean… what about raising Arthur?  He was eight once too.”

“Sometimes I think he’s eight _still_.  No, raising an eight-year old Arthur is the reason why I’m not so keen to keep a child up in the air for a dozen hours.”

Douglas was saved a reply when a cab pulled up in front of them.  The door opened, and a pair of pudgy feet squashed into very small and strained looking black shoes wiggled out first.  They were both followed by the roundest, squattiest woman Douglas had ever seen fitted into a short black dress.  In fact, he suddenly had the urge to pull out his phone and take pictures.

“Sofia, rapidamente.  Vas a perder tu vuelo.”  The lady said, and a little girl in a ridiculously prim outfit that would only have looked stiffer with a straightjacket came out. Douglas supposed the woman was Sofia’s mother, although it was difficult to tell if they looked alike at all.  Sofia’s face was obscured by a woolen hat and scarf ensemble.  The squatty woman seemed to be suffering her quite different choice of clothes, and was already shivering.

“Well, this is Sofia.  I trust you will look after her?  Her papa is eager to see her,” the woman said, in a tone that clearly implied she was not very fond of Sofia’s papa.

“Yes, of course we’ll look after her, Señora Navarro,” Carolyn said, although she was looking a little green after seeing the girl in person.  But that might have been from the squatty woman’s choice of dress.

“All right then.  Sofia.  Porte _bien_.”  Señora Navarro pecked Sofia on the cheek and practically flew back to the warmth of the cab, suddenly leaving Carolyn and Douglas alone with a small, wrapped up child.  Douglas cleared his throat.

“Er… shall we go to the… aeroplano??” he said, while pantomiming walking.  He could just see Carolyn crossing ‘speaking Spanish’ off of the previously interminable list of ‘things Douglas Richardson could do very well’.

“Señor, I _can_ speak English,” Sofia said, in wool-muffled and endearingly accented English.  She took Douglas’s hand as they began to walk to the aeroplane.  He saw Carolyn edge away, as if to avoid getting roped into holding hands as well.  A shiver ran through him.  The drizzling was picking up.  Douglas squared his shoulders and walked the cold way to the plane, while Sofia followed quietly behind.

~x~

When Douglas came back into the plane, he walked past Arthur in the kitchen on the way to the flight deck.  “How is she?” Arthur asked.

“A bit traumatized, so she’s gone to shout at Martin a bit until she feels better,” Douglas replied.

“What? No! Not Mum.  I didn’t mean Mum.  I meant the _girl_ , the little girl.  What’s her name again?”

“Sofia Navarro. Oh, she’s fine.  Didn’t say much.  She’s been on lots of flights before, so at least she won’t be screaming bloody murder when we take off.  Although she might anyway, if Martin’s the one doing the take off.” 

“I heard that!” Martin’s muffled voice sounded.  Douglas hid a smile of amusement and went into the flight deck. It took a while after that, in which time Arthur was able to pour out a small packet of salted cashews onto a napkin, set it on a tray with a glass of water, put in the right DVD for the in-flight entertainment (this took several goes), and also make a second cup of coffee for Mum, who looked like she needed it badly.  About fifteen minutes then.  After that, they were in the air.

Arthur took the tray to Sofia, who was sitting in the front row, legs swinging a clear foot off the floor.  Her stifling coat, hat and scarf were all gone; she was wearing a pale pink blouse and a white pleated skirt, her dark hair braided neatly away from muddy grey eyes.  She had glittery purple headphones on, and was listening to a CD, so she didn’t see Arthur until he was standing in front of her, holding out the tray with a big smile.

“Hello Sofia.  My name is Arthur.  I’m the steward, so let me know if there’s anything I can do myself for yourself to make yourself more comfortable.” This statement was met with a blank stare.  He put the cashews and the glass of water down on her fold out table.  Sofia took off her headphones and hung them around her neck.

“How many people are on this plane, Señor?” she asked.

Arthur screwed up his face in concentration. “Well, counting you and me, there’s…four? No, five.” He smiled brightly again. “Oh, and call me Arthur.”   

“Five?  I am the only passenger?” Sofia said, beginning to look a little anxious.

“Yes, I’m certain.  Is this your first time flying alone?” he asked, sitting down in the seat next to hers.

“Yes, it is,” she said proudly.  “But I have flown to Argentina dozens of times so I know just how it goes.  Look, I have come very prepared.”  She showed him her CD collection of Chopin and Frank Sinatra, all the extra batteries she had brought, and how to properly put the batteries in so that the music would play.  Arthur was very impressed by this, because he got it wrong constantly.  She introduced him to her dolls, Valentina and Brittany, and showed him all of the outfits she had brought for them.  Arthur was just halfway through dressing Brittany in her football outfit, when Carolyn called for him from the galley.

“Ooh, got to go,” he said, handing a half-dressed Brittany back to her.  Sofia put on her headphones again.  Arthur found Carolyn back in the flight deck.

“Mum. I’ve just realized what my life goal is,” Arthur told her, closing the door behind him.

“To fly to the moon in GERTI?” Carolyn asked in the resigned tone of one who has heard too much nonsense to be affected by it anymore.

“No, that was last week. Now I want to have a daughter. Just like Sofia.”

“You can’t have a daughter, Arthur, don’t be absolutely absurd!” Carolyn said, her voice raising and her eyes flashing.  Her ire was enough to even put a stop to Martin and Douglas’s banter.

“A-ATC says there’s going to be some turbulence headed our way,” Martin told Arthur, breaking the silence.  Arthur cheered up immediately.

“Brilliant, that should be exciting.  Oh, should I let Sofia know?”

“Arthur, the last time we trusted you to announce turbulence, all ten passengers began to don their life jackets on the spot,” Carolyn said, who seemed to have calmed down.  “No, I think Douglas should go and tell her.”

“I’m a little busy helping fly this _plane_.  You know, the one that’s about to shake like a wet dog rather soon?  If you’re so worried, why don’t you go and tell her?  She won’t bite your head off.”

Carolyn straightened up.  “All right, I will, you lazy pilot.  You’re not even really doing anything, once I’m gone, you and Martin will go back playing your stupid word game.”

“Ooh, what are you doing this time?” Arthur asked.

“Famous actors and cities.  I just got Richard Harris from Paris.”

“Tina Fey from Guadalupe,” Douglas said, and Martin nodded in grudging approval.

 “I stand corrected. You don’t even have the decency to wait until I’m gone,” Carolyn said, and went off to talk to Sofia.

“Why is Carolyn so tense?  It’s only a little girl,” Martin said.

“You should have seen her on the way back to the plane.  It looked like she was taking a lion back to its den.” Douglas said.  “Arthur, do you kn—”.

“Oh! I’ve just remembered.  I need to go and check on the… on the…” Arthur said suddenly, looking flustered.  “Coffee!” he exclaimed, and hurried out of the flight deck.

“Coffee?” Martin repeated, looking at Douglas.  “Arthur just made coffee.”

“He isn’t telling us something,” Douglas said, wearing the same expression Martin knew he wore in the days right before Birling Day rolled around, his _scheming_ expression.  “Some terribly embarrassing story of Carolyn’s that’s left her frightened of little girls.”

“You’re not thinking of…” Martin said apprehensively.

“Oh, yes.  This I must know.” Douglas smiled his mad smile, and they were silent for a while.  “Jeremy Brett from Utrecht.”

“Oh, you big show off.”

Carolyn came back into the flight deck, looking a bit pale and cold.

“What’s the matter, Carolyn? Had a traumatic experience you’d like to share with us?” Douglas said smoothly, and Martin resisted the urge to kick him in the shins. But only because it would have made his hat fall off trying to reach his short legs that far.

Something flashed across Carolyn’s face.  “She said she already knew.”

“Who?”

“Sofia.  She said she already knew there was going to be turbulence.  Said someone told her.  How could she know?”  Caroline said, an odd strain in her voice.

“Oh, Carolyn. _Really_.  She’s probably just making it up.  Getting attention.  If I believed half the things my daughter told me, I’d still think there were monsters under my bed. Who could have possible told her about the turbulence?”

“Yes, well.  Perhaps she’s getting frightened all by herself or something.  I’ll send Arthur to look after her, since he’s obviously become very good friends with her.”  Carolyn looked as if she’d swallowed something sour.

“I don’t think she’s going to tell you,” Martin said once Carolyn had left.

“Oh, I don’t think so either. Not by _choice_ anyway,” Douglas said, with a devious glint in his eyes.  Martin knew that look could mean very bad things were about to happen.

“Right, well I have to go to the loo. Can I trust you to scheme and fly this plane at the same time?” Martin said, getting up.

“Oh, don’t worry about me.  I can scheme in my sleep.”  A statement Martin was afraid he could believe very easily.  He passed Carolyn in the galley.  She was reading a book, but looked up at once when she saw him come in.

“What’s wrong, why are you here?” she said hastily.  “What did Douglas do?”

“Nothing, I’m… I’m just going to the loo,” Martin said, trying to calm her down.  “Carolyn… are you all right?” he asked in a hushed tone, so that Douglas would not hear.

“I’m perfectly fine.” She went back to reading her book.

“It’s just… y-you seem a bit jumpy, that’s all,” Martin said.

“Maybe it’s because my plane is about to fly through rather a lot of stormy weather, and my first pilot is spending his time _socializing_ ,” Carolyn said, in her usual no-nonsense tone.  Martin immediately headed towards the loo.

When he came out, Carolyn was once again absorbed in her book.  He looked around and saw Arthur talking with Sofia. 

“Maybe you have prevision,” Arthur was saying. “You know, like you can tell the future.  Brilliant!  I once took a course in Toronto about how to do that.  It was excellent, I just walked into the classroom and the teacher could tell right away that I was going to fail the class!”

“But I did not have a vision! Someone _told_ me about the turbulencia,” Sofia said breathlessly.  Suddenly her eyes slid from Arthur to Martin, who realized that he had been standing there listening in on their conversation.  At least his face wasn’t getting hot, it actually seemed to be getting very cold.

“Er, hello,” said Martin, waving awkwardly.

“Who are you, señor?” Sofia asked, clutching Valentina to her chest.

“I’m… Captain Martin Crieff. But, er, just call me Skipper.”

“Un capitán?” Sofia said in awe. 

Martin preened a little.  “Skipper.  Were you saying you saw someone else onboard? And this person talked to you?”

Sofia nodded.  “They told me the plane was going to shake.”  Her eyes were widened and frightened looking.

“Well, where did he go?  I mean, there’s nowhere else except here, the galley and the flight deck,” Martin said.  He was pretty certain she was making this up, but it would be a rather large breach of flight regulations if he ignored the possibility of a stowaway on board.

Sofia gestured for him to come closer so he leaned forward, feeling ridiculous and hoping his hat would not fall off.  “There is a light, in the back rows of the plane.  Why is it the only one that is on?”  Sofia said. Martin looked up at the light in question.  “Oh, that one.  It’s broken, it just flickers sometimes at random intervals.  I suppose it got stuck and won’t shut off now,” he said.

Arthur beamed.  “I think it’s rather brilliant.  Like our very own ghost light.”

Sofia paled.  “Do you think it’s a ghost?”

“No!” Martin said, shooting a glare at Arthur.  “Why, is that where you think he is?  The person who told you about the turbulence?”

Sofia nodded.  Martin looked again at the seat, but it was hidden by the row in front of it and he couldn’t see it from this angle.  He walked forward cautiously, the hair on the back of his neck beginning to stand up on end.  He was standing on tiptoe to see the last row which resulted in him nearly being thrown to the ground when the entire plane lurched violently.  He steadied himself on an armrest.  There was a dinging noise as the cabin address came on.

“ _Martin_.  If you’re still in the loo, get out. You’re missing all the fun,” Douglas’s voice said.  Martin hurried to the flight deck, pausing only to check very hastily at the back row again.  The ghost light had turned off again.

“Sorry, Sofia, I’ve got to dash,” he said, dodging an irate Carolyn and ducking into the flight deck.  “Sorry I’m late Douglas,” he said to Douglas and slid into his seat.  His eyes widened as he saw what was outside.  The sky had turned a dark gray. 

“ _This_ is turbulence?  This is practically a thunderstorm!  What were ATC thinking, letting us fly into this weather?” Martin said.

“I don’t know, they won’t answer,” Douglas said.

“Air Traffic Control isn’t _answering_?” Martin asked in disbelief.  Had he read anything in the guidebooks on this?  No, he didn’t think he had.  He felt himself begin to panic.

“Yes, I just keep getting static.  I think our radios must be down or something,” Douglas said.  Martin’s insides twisted with anxiety.

“Okay.  Okay, okay.  Okay.  This is… what do we do?  We have no signal!  We’re flying through a storm!  Okay, calm down.  Douglas, calm down, we can do this. Don’t panic, it’s fine.  It’ll all be fine.”  Martin took rapid deep gulps of air.

“You don’t need to tell me,” Douglas said.  And other than the strain of concentration that it took to fly a plane through a storm, Douglas did seem perfectly calm.  His eyes were fixed on the controls, and he maneuvered the plane perfectly.  Martin felt intensely jealous.

“Well?” Douglas said.

“Well, what?” Martin snapped.

“Well—and don’t make me say this again—I’m going to need your help to fly this plane.” Douglas took his eyes away and fixed them on Martin’s, and Martin could tell that Douglas, for once, was being sincere.  Feeling much more confident, he took hold of his controls and pressed on.

~x~

Carolyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat and tried to read.  The weather was rather troubling, but she had a strange sort of trust that Douglas and Martin would together bring GERTI out of it in one piece.  Never would she tell them this, of course.  Carolyn turned a page of her book and sighed.  No, it wasn’t the weather that was keeping her from her book.  Over the sound of the plane shaking and the wind howling outside, was the sound of a frightened little girl, and the bewildered steward who was trying to comfort her.  The plane gave another lurch, and Sofia’s voice grew shriller and louder.  She was talking rapidly in Spanish, and Arthur’s attempts at comforting her seemed only to make it worse.  At last, when Carolyn could stand it no longer, she got up, and walked down the shaking plane so well, it was like it was her job, which it was.

But she didn’t want this part to be her job.  The part where she comforted a frightened little girl.  That part should belong at home in the empty bedroom with pink wallpaper at the top of the stairs. Thirty years ago.

“Arthur, go heat up the food,” Carolyn told Arthur quietly, who got up gratefully.  Carolyn took his vacated seat.  Sofia held a doll with tight, white hands, her face stained with tears.  Her eyes were wet and quivering, and her nose kept running.  Carolyn took the napkin from underneath the empty packet of salted cashews, and gave it to her.  Sofia blew her nose loudly then went back to muttering.  “Papa, Papa, Papa…”

“We aren’t going to crash,” Carolyn said, and Sofia sniffled.  Then Carolyn hugged her tightly, and did not let go until she stopped crying.

“Quiero mi papa.  Mi papa,” Sofia said, her voice muffled by Carolyn’s shoulder.  Carolyn rubbed her back reassuringly, feeling as if she was remembering movements from a very ancient time ago.  They stayed like this for a while, until the plane had stopped lurching.  Carolyn looked out the window.  The dark gray sky was gone.  It was all white now.

“There, see?  I told you,” Carolyn said, her voice sharp and brisk once more.  Sofia only smiled shakily.

“Thank you Señora.  Your grandchildren are very lucky,” Sofia said. Just as Carolyn had gone back to her usual stern self, so Sofia had become formal once more.

“I don’t have any grandchildren.  Only Arthur.  Sometimes I’m not really sure which generation that boy belongs in.”

“No granddaughter?”  Sofia asked, and in her eyes Carolyn could see she didn’t believe her.

“No, of course not, do I look like a grandmother?” Carolyn snapped, and walked back towards the galley.  She looked back but Sofia had put on her headphones again.

Carolyn found Arthur in the flight deck.  “Mum!” he exclaimed.  “Is Sofia all right?”  Carolyn nodded.  Arthur beamed and handed her their meal, a defrosted portion of lasagna which was only slightly burned around the edges. 

Something tickled the back of her throat at the sight of the badly microwaved lasagna.

Carolyn hugged Arthur, who just stood there frozen, still holding the Styrofoam tray of lasagna. When she stepped away, she realized that everyone in the flight deck was staring openmouthed at her.

“What are you louts doing?  Get back to work!” Carolyn bellowed.  “Arthur, take Miss Navarro her lasagna.  Martin, are the radios still down?”

“N-No, we got a hold of ATC right after we flew out of that storm,” Martin said. “Everything’s all right.”

“So, what did you say to Sofia then?  From the way Arthur was going on, the girl must have been hysterical,” Douglas said.  “I didn’t know you were the _mothering_ sort.  Didn’t you hate children?”

“I don’t hate children,” Carolyn said, her voice sounding much less severe than she intended.  She cleared her throat.  “We just negotiated until the girl saw the error of her ways and then she kindly stopped her wailing.”

“A very reasonable and diplomatic eight-year old then, isn’t she?” Douglas said.  “Talked it out with her and she stopped crying?  Very professional.  Glad to see you’re able to talk with her fina—” Douglas’s head snapped to the side, his hat falling off, with the force of the slap. Martin beside him yelped, as if it had been him who had been slapped.  Carolyn stormed out of the flight deck.

“ _Oh,_ ” Douglas said, rubbing at the pink welt on his cheek. He looked absolutely stunned and horrified. 

They got the story out of Arthur later, who, distraught by his mother’s outburst, decided to tell Martin and Douglas. 

“Before I was born, Mum had a daughter.  But she got sick.” Arthur was uncharacteristically serious.

They didn’t see Carolyn until they landed in Buenos Aires.  According to Arthur, she spent the rest of the flight sitting with Sofia in stony silence.  When they landed, Douglas left Martin to do the post-flight procedures and bolted out of the flight deck. But the cabin was empty, except for Arthur who was glumly hoovering the floor.

Douglas eventually found Carolyn under GERTI’s wing.  She was standing there, talking with Sofia. 

She was holding Sofia’s hand.

He saw her stiffen as he drew closer, but Carolyn kept talking.  “Owning an aeroplane is a tricky business, Sofia,” she was saying.  “You will have to convince your papa.”

Sofia nodded fervently.  “I will!  I want to be just like you when I grow up.  Goodbye Señora!” She bounced off to the black stretch limo that awaited her. 

Douglas approached her, wary of the red in the corner of her eyes.  “Why didn’t you ever tell us?” He nearly winced at how monotone his voice sounded.  What had he meant to do?  Comfort her, confront her?  Apologize?  Him?  But this lack of emotion just felt wrong.

“Honestly, that boy’s mouth wags too much.  I should just tape it together for good and final.  I told him—”

“—Don’t blame Arthur, we would have got it out of him eventually,” Douglas cut her off, aware that she was talking much too fast.  She seemed to realize this as well, and settled for one of those bone-chilling glares that nearly sent him back a step.  He held his ground.  “Look, I’m… sorry.”

“You?”

Douglas smiled, an ironic grimace.  “Yes, rather surprising, I must say.  In fact, why not make it a double surprise.  How’s about I take MJN Air to dinner tonight?”

If possible, Carolyn’s eyebrows went up further.  But he was pleased to see the familiar look she had when she sniffed a free deal.  “What are you proposing?”

“Oh, the usual.  Eat Italian food, get heroically drunk.  Maybe we can finally get Martin laid with some Argentinean tango dancer.”  He heard Martin squeak behind him.  He and Arthur were coming out of GERTI.

“Mum?” Arthur asked cautiously.

“What is it Arthur?” Carolyn said in her sharpest tone, and Arthur beamed.  “What’s for dinner?”

Later, as they were getting into a cab, Martin realized he’d left his hat in the flight deck.  Ignoring the threats of going off without him (“Oh, _Martin_ , just leave it.” “N-no, I can’t, what if it gets stolen?”) he ran back hurriedly across the airfield.  When he was leaving, hat securely on head, he realized that there was a light on in the passenger cabin.  As he watched, a pale little girl in a white dress slid out of the seat, where the ghost light was flickering overhead.

She smiled at Martin, and she left.

And when Martin finally arrived back at the cab, shaken and pale, he realized there were no other three people on this world, and no other time such as now, that he would more prefer getting completely drunk with.

**Author's Note:**

> Forgive any glaring and horribly inaccurate mistakes about flying and such. Hopefully the Spanish isn't too bad as I have an exam tomorrow.
> 
> Find me on my [tumblr](http://travellinglemon.tumblr.com/).


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